Planes, Trains, and Automobiles
by Crimson1
Summary: All Len wants is to make it home in time for Thanksgiving dinner with his sister. Meeting another traveler on the road and encountering a cavalcade of bad luck quickly turns the journey into the worst road trip he has ever experienced. And somehow it is definitely all Barry Allen's fault. AU no powers.
1. They Meet

**At last my road trip fic, a parody of the movie Planes, Trains, and Automobiles with ColdFlash.**

 **The plan is to post a new chapter every week leading up to right before Thanksgiving Day. There are 5 chapters in total.**

 **Thank you to ColdFlashTrash who first, long ago, requested a road trip - and several anons as well.**

* * *

Len hated Metropolis. Just a poor imitation of his home town, Central City, but with a glitz and glam that seemed fake, forced, and far too…chipper. You'd think it had tried to adopt a small town charm or something, with all the charisma of a talented sociopath.

At least it wasn't Gotham.

But Len had business in Metropolis mere days before the holidays, and couldn't get out of it. He was head of marketing for Rogues Inc., not because he enjoyed the political bullshit of board meetings and getting some pompous CEO to buy into his ideas, but because he excelled at coming up with the plan—the point by point makeup of the perfect campaign to end campaigns to make a product sell. Most of which he could do from the safety of his own office, and let the grunts handle the presentations. Len excelled at presentations too, however, and often got called in to make the final sale.

He'd done his job today, leading in to a full fourteen-day vacation that he had more than earned, but he was late. He'd timed his departure from downtown Metropolis to the second, ensuring he would have ample time to catch his flight without rushing, something he despised, only for the CEO of the week, Lex Luthor, to pour over his mock-ups an extra thirty-eight minutes longer than predicted, ruining Len's entire plan for catching the 6 o'clock flight home.

He stood now on the street, in the middle of rush hour traffic, right before the biggest holiday travel weekend of the year, trying to hail a cab. He checked his watch for the seventh time since hitting the street and cursed his bad luck.

Lisa was going to be pissed. His sister had berated him already for agreeing to a last minute trip before the holidays. He'd been MIA for too long lately, and since he and his sister were the only family either had left, besides Lisa's still fairly new husband and the budding life inside her from her newly announced pregnancy, he didn't dare disappoint her.

He'd never considered children for himself. He wasn't openly gay at work—his line of business wasn't always kind to that sort of boldness—but he was hardly closeted. His coworkers knew him as happily single. His closest friends and family knew him as unlucky in love, and no, not very happy about that, but not looking to do much about it either. But he'd be lying if he said he wasn't ecstatic about becoming an uncle. His brother-in-law, Cisco, was a little young, a little yappy, a little too flailing around him as if afraid Len would pull a shotgun at some point, but he made Lisa happy, and that's all that mattered.

Len could not miss this flight.

He loosened his lucky navy tie with light blue polka dots, matched perfectly to his slate blue button down, and dark grey checkered blazer and black overcoat. He looked like a million bucks but felt like forty-nine cents—Lisa loved that line. Their grandfather had made a point to say it at least once a week when they were kids.

"You can look like a million bucks, but if you feel like forty-nine cents, something in your life needs fixing."

Something needed fixing all right. Len couldn't get a fucking cab.

Finally, he spotted one parked about half a block up, but just as he reached for his suitcase and messenger bag to make a break for it, he noticed another man across the street spot it at the same time. The man was tall, well dressed, with black thick-framed glasses and a trilby perched on his head. He cast Len a gentlemanly smile as he took off down the street ahead of him. Shit.

Len worked out regularly for a reason—to beat out the other 9-5 schlubs for the last cab.

He darted around men and women in suits, families, older people shuffling more slowly, all like an expert at weaving through crowds, because he was. Metropolis had nothing on downtown Central City.

The cab was on the other man's side of the street, but as they neared it, Glasses hit a wall of luggage coming out of a nearby hotel, and Len took the lead. He grinned in triumph, making to cross the street and claim his prize…only to trip on the curb like some impossible fool and fall flat on his face on the concrete.

Glasses made it around the luggage, but Len still had a chance. He launched back onto his feet, checked the street, dodged cars with the same grace and precision he'd dodged people, and made it to the cab at the exact same moment as Glasses.

Len sized the man up, realizing just how tall Mr. Perfectly Poised, Small Town Grin and Congenial Tip of His Hat, was, and spat out, "You're not getting this cab, Smallville," thinking only of the man's countenance, but wondering if he'd guessed correctly by the way Glasses pouted.

Glasses tipped his hat again. "Apologies. Seems you're not getting it either."

Len whipped back around toward the cab. He'd made it to the door just parallel with Glasses, or so he'd thought. But while the cab had paused to accept whichever patron caught it first, it didn't discriminate against who slipped inside to claim the offered seat.

A young man had snuck in around Len and Glasses and taken the cab for himself, smiling widely as he closed the door behind him and told the driver his destination.

As Len stood there and gaped at being ousted from his win for the last cab he was likely to get, the kid looked up just before the cab took off, and Len caught sight of gleaming hazel eyes, floofed brunette hair, and a dimpled grin that he wasn't sure was mocking him or just honestly oblivious at what had transpired.

Len stood for a solid forty-five seconds on the sidewalk, Glasses long gone, watching Dimples get away with his cab, before he realized he was not going to catch his flight.

* * *

As it turned out, no one was catching the 6 o'clock flight to Central City. The flight had been delayed, and Len catching a cab several minutes later made no difference other than to annoy him and set his already frazzled nerves on fire.

He sat with everyone else waiting for the flight to board, with time to kill. He sat…and five minutes after settling and talking to Lisa on his cell phone to let her know that he might be an hour or two late, slid his phone back into his pocket to see a young man take the seat across from him.

A young man with gleaming hazel eyes, floofed brunette hair, and a dimpled grin.

Len now noticed the slightly wrinkled button down, with a shapeless V-neck sweater over jeans, and a battered, seen-better-days dark grey overcoat that might have been black once.

The dimples deepened in the kid's cheeks as he focused on Len. "Sorry, but…do I know you? I'm usually good with faces. You look so familiar."

Len folded his hands in his lap, stared the kid down with his best supervillain smile, as Cisco called it, and said, "You stole my cab."

"I…" The kid's smile vanished. "Seriously? I've never stolen anything in my life! Wait…" There it was—the spark of recognition, if Len was to believe his naivety. "Oh my god, on the street! You were going for that cab too? I would have shared it! I had no idea!"

Considering Dimples sounded more genuine than even Smallville had looked, Len figured he could let his ire slough off. They were in the same boat, after all, and the kid had a very alluring curve to his jaw—an alluring everything. Just Len's type, Lisa would have pointed out if she were there, not that Len wanted to get distracted. He just wanted to get home.

Len waved a dismissive hand. "Think nothing of it, kid. Flight's delayed, so you're off the hook. You from Central too?"

"Yep!" Dimples instantly perked up. "Just going home for the holidays."

"Same here. Hate to miss time with family."

"Yeah… Wife and kids?"

"Sister and her husband. Baby on the way. Some close friends will be over too."

"Nice." Dimples had such an easy smile, it actually comforted Len, shaking loose the tension that had gripped his shoulders from being behind schedule.

"College kid?" he asked, relaxing into his seat.

"Oh no, not for a few years now. I just travel for my blog and freelancing."

"Travel writer?"

A bit of bashfulness entered Dimples's expression. "Umm…more like conspiracy theories? UFO sightings. Hauntings. Strange occurrences, things like that."

Interesting. Not Len's boat, but to each their own. "How'd you get into that line of work?"

"Oh, just…always been interested since I was a kid, explaining the unexplainable. What about you?"

"Marketing. Not nearly as exciting."

Dimples laughed. "I doubt that."

"Have to pick on you a bit though, coz you know what they say—Occam's razor. The more assumptions you have to make, the more unlikely an explanation is."

The kid smiled wider at that as if he'd fielded the same argument many times before. "And you know what they _also_ say—if you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the solution." His eyes positively sparkled as he quoted Sherlock Holmes—or maybe Spock. Given what Len had learned of Dimples so far, probably Spock. "I'm Barry, by the way. Barry Allen." He leaned across the aisle to shake Len's hand.

Len accepted it, startled by the slight shock of static electricity that passed between them, but then it was getting colder and drier outside these days with the holidays looming. "Len Snart. Pleasure to meet you, Barry."

* * *

TBC...

The other chapters are all at least twice as long as this semi-prologue, FYI, but still a shorter fic.


	2. Mile High Trouble

**So glad people are enjoying this little romp. Much more to come, as we near Thanksgiving Day for real. I'll update every Wednesday going forward.**

 **Have fun with all of the DC references, and the nods and deviations from the source material.**

 **Thank you!**

* * *

Barry was pleasant enough company for the hour-long wait for their delayed flight to finally board. A little too chatty, but he was just excitable, young, full of energy, and eager to get home like Len was so he could enjoy Thanksgiving with his parents.

The kid could not say enough amazing things about his folks: his father, the heart surgeon; his mother, who ran a non-profit and volunteered with every charitable organization in Central City. Occasionally he'd mention a detective named Joe, and his daughter who had followed in his footsteps—"Oh, they're just…family friends."

Len mentioned a few things about his own family: Lisa who was in politics and wanted to run for mayor someday, while also planning a family with her husband, Cisco, who was the head of research at STAR Labs; and his parents who had both passed away when he was younger.

"Oh, I'm…sorry to hear that," Barry had said, a shadow falling over his bright face. Len was used to that reaction. No one wanted to hear about dead parents when meeting someone for the first time.

"Ancient history," Len said. "Raised by my grandfather, and happily. Dad died in prison—good riddance. Mom had a weak heart. Lise and I visit the cemetery on her birthday every year rather than on holidays. Right before Mom passed, she said she didn't want us feeling down when we're supposed to be happy, so if we have to cry, only do it for her sake, not when we should be focused on our own." Len smiled at the memory; his mother had always been practical if a little dramatic.

Barry's eyes fogged over distantly. "I hadn't thought of that… Must have been hard initially with the holidays."

Len shrugged. It wasn't that he was dismissive—well, maybe of his father—but he'd had a lot of time to move on from losing his mother so young, and his grandfather had made sure he had a good childhood and was able to pursue what he really wanted to do. "Good friends and my sister help to make up for it."

It was then, as Barry opened his mouth to say something, that they announced First Class passengers could board. Len got up, thanked Barry for the conversation, and they parted ways. He figured at best he'd see Barry when the kid boarded and offer him a small nod, maybe say another farewell if they saw each other after landing, and that would be it. Len really just wanted to take a nap.

"What do you mean there isn't room in First Class?" he practically snarled. "If you'll notice, I'm holding a First Class ticket."

"We realize that, Mr. Snart, but with the delay, the flight is overbooked," the flight attendant said, her chin-length, wavy dark hair bobbing with every emphasis. "Someone had to be moved to coach. You'll be compensated with a complimentary First Class ticket anywhere—"

"I want my First Class ticket _home_." Len hated being 'that guy', garnering him sidelong glances from the passengers that passed him as they boarded, but he didn't do well in coach, close-quartered with so many people. His tie already felt tighter around his neck, sweat trickling down his back— _just breathe, damn it._ Lisa would be reminding him to watch his blood pressure about now.

"You're welcome to wait for the next flight to Central City for a First Class seat, Mr. Snart, but that won't be until tomorrow morning."

Len pinched the bridge of his nose. "Fine. It's _fine_. What seat am I? Do I at least have the aisle?"

He did not, in fact; he had the middle seat, almost at the very back of the plane near the bathrooms—right next to Barry Allen.

"Hey there, stranger," Barry greeted him with that wide, dimpled smile.

Len suppressed the urge to punch him. "How married are you to that seat?"

"Huh?" Barry looked at his aisle seat as if it might actually sport a ring somewhere before he caught Len's meaning. "Oh! I don't mind the middle, if you—"

"Please," Len said, and was relieved when Barry's general eagerness meant that he immediately got up and slid over.

Len shoved his shoulder bag under the seat in front of him and slumped down exhaustedly where Barry had vacated.

"Trouble in First Class?" Barry asked.

Len closed his eyes. "I don't fly well back here, but I drew the short straw apparently. No room anywhere else."

"I have an extra wristband," Barry said helpfully, reaching into the pocket of his faded trench coat and holding out what Len glanced aside to see was a small black wristband for motion sickness.

Len didn't know how to explain that it was anxiety not motion sickness that made him sweat and fidget and just want to be away from people sometimes.

"I wear it more for nerves than nausea," Barry said, as if reading the thought from Len's mind, "but it works well for both."

This kid really was too sweet for words, if a little oblivious and naïve. Len loosened his tie to feel at least a little less constricted, then figured, why not? "Thanks, kid. Might help."

Another spark of static shock jolted Len as he accepted the gift. He slid the wristband on and tried to settle in more comfortably, only to look forward and discover a dark-skinned toddler with bright blue eyes staring at him from over the back of the seat in front of him.

"And what are you looking at?" Len raised an eyebrow at him.

The boy smiled.

"Hey, we have the same bag!" Barry exclaimed, tugging his own messenger bag out from between his legs and setting it on his lap. It was indeed the same brand and color as Len's, if at least a decade older.

"What are the odds?" Len droned. He liked Barry well enough, and the kid was easy on the eyes, but Len was tired and grumpy and just wanted to get home. "I'm gonna rest my eyes, okay?"

"Oh…sure! I won't pester you. Have a nice nap!"

Len murmured an unintelligible response. As he closed his eyes, he absently ran his thumb over the wristband on his other arm, feeling the button, that on the inside was a small, white ball digging just so into the pressure point beneath. It did help a little.

"Hi, I'm Barry," Len heard the kid introduce himself to the person on his other side, and then Len was already drifting off...

He awoke with a jolt as the plane hit a shock of turbulence. He'd slept through take off, and drink service apparently, since Barry's tray table was down and had an empty pretzel bag on it and a cup filled halfway with ginger ale. Len smacked his lips as he realized how parched he was.

He reached up to press the call service button. The blue-eyed kid in front of him was staring again. He flashed the boy a meager returning smile this time. Usually, he was better with kids, he liked kids, he was just groggy and thirsty, even a little hungry. The boy did not smile back this time, but furrowed his brow.

"Wendigos are totally real!" Barry was saying to the man on his other side. He was taller than Barry at a glance, even while sitting, dark skin, shaved head, striking good looks, and an amused expression as he listened to whatever tall tale the kid was telling.

Len shifted with a slight grimace at the stranger…for some reason. He was just thirsty.

"I was in Minnesota before Metropolis and they are definitely real," Barry said.

"You saw one?" Tall, dark, and handsome asked. Why hadn't Len noticed the man before? And where was the flight attendant?

"Well, I didn't _see_ one, but the first-hand accounts from locals are amazing. Tons of evidence. You're a reporter, James, you know how it goes."

"Photo journalist, but sure, Barry," James said, fully indulging Barry in his fantasies.

"Wendigos aren't real," Len grumbled, reaching up to push the call service button again. The turbulence was growing more frequent, and Len felt even surlier suddenly. "They are as fictional as our flight attendant. You sure your degree wasn't in creative writing instead of journalism?"

James flashed Len a disgruntled frown, but Barry barely lost his smile, or at least recovered quickly.

"Actually, I doubled in journalism and criminology. Creative writing and crack-pot theories were electives." Barry's dimples twitched. This kid took way too much in stride—even Len being a dick to him.

James laughed, breaking the tension, and Len came down from his sour mood feeling like a real jackass.

"Sorry…been one of those days," Len said quietly.

Barry just beamed at him like he wouldn't know a bad day if it bit him. "You're forgiven."

"Can I help you with something, sir," the flight attendant appeared. Of course it was the one from earlier that Len had chewed out about First Class. Of course it was.

"Yes. Thank you. Can I get a…" Len was tempted to order a scotch, beer, wine, something harder, but even with Barry's offered wristband he felt a little fuzzy and nauseous with how the plane was quaking. "…ginger ale."

The flight attendant smiled sickly sweet at him. "I'm sorry, sir, we've already completed our complimentary beverage service."

Len felt the vein in his forehead twitch. "I realize that. I was asleep. I didn't get anything."

"And normally we could accommodate you, but the increase in turbulence is unfortunately expected for the remainder of the trip, so we're unable to pull the drink cart through again."

"So go grab a can and _walk_ it to me," Len snapped. He was being 'that guy' again—a few people turned to frown at him, including James—but damn it…she started it.

"Sir—"

"Excuse me…Linda is it?" Barry leaned forward, smiling his impossible smile at the woman as he read her name tag. "The turbulence wasn't so bad that you couldn't walk over here. If they get worse, we would never expect you to risk yourself for one measly drink, but while it's still okay, don't you think you could make an exception for my friend here? He's just worried about being late to see his sister for the holidays, and has had a real tough time today. Haven't you had a bad day and snapped at people when you didn't mean to? You wouldn't want them to hold it against you, would you?" He actually batted his eyelashes, which were remarkably long.

The flight attendant blossomed under his adorable expression as if the kid was the literal sun. "Well…I suppose I can make an exception." She lost her smile the moment she turned back to Len. "I'll be right back with your drink, sir." Then she flashed another smile at Barry and was off.

Now Len really felt like a dick. "Thanks," he murmured.

"Hey, it's okay. I know you're a nice guy under that sourpuss," Barry's dimples deepened again.

James chuckled.

Len scowled; he really wasn't a nice guy. He was grudgingly polite at best.

The flight attendant returned with Len's ginger ale and an extra one for Barry. She smiled when Barry thanked her, but still seemed skeptical when Len did. The turbulence continued to get worse, so he was lucky to have gotten anything.

The first sip of ginger ale was like water in the desert, though it would have been better with a shot of whiskey. As Len was going back for his second sip, Barry and James having returned to their discussion on urban legends and the proof—or lack thereof—that they were real, he glanced up and saw the blue eyes of his constant companion.

"Bumpy ride at the moment, kid," Len said, having to hold his drink to keep it from ratcheting right off the table. He used his other hand to gesture for the boy to turn around. "Seat belt." Mom in the seat next to him appeared to have been lulled to sleep by the rocking plane.

The boy, seemingly undeterred, leaned back, opened his mouth as if to say something...and proceeded to vomit all over Len's nice, clean suit.

* * *

Len braced himself in the tiny bathroom as the turbulence lurched the plane from side to side. Why had he swapped seats with Barry? The discomfort of being squished between two grown men would have been better than _this_.

A knock came at the door. "Sir, just a reminder—"

"If I get hurt, it's my own damn fault, I know!" Len barked.

He was 'that guy' to the entire plane by this point; there was no fixing that now. But he couldn't sit in vomit or wipe it up satisfactorily with only napkins, so he'd hobbled his way to the bathroom, stripped everything off, and doused it in the sink. Now he was carefully putting his wet clothes back on, which wasn't an easy task in close quarters even when the plane wasn't jerking every which direction.

Len took one look at his tie and shoved it into the garbage shoot. Of course he'd had to check his suitcase, so he had nothing dry on him to change into until they landed. He'd throw the whole outfit away once he got the chance. Lisa was never going to let him live this down. Especially when he was about to become an uncle.

"Attention passengers, this is your captain speaking."

 _What now?_ Len grimaced as he fumbled for the door.

"The excess turbulence is due to a storm coming out of the east. Looks like it'll follow us all the way into Central CIty. I'm afraid we have no choice but to detour our descent to Star City—"

" _What?_ " Len exclaimed just as he got the door wrenched open only to flail backwards spectacularly, slipping on a small splatter of water and smacking his head against the corner of the mirror.

"—where you'll be assisted with making arrangements to your final destination. Thank you, and have a pleasant flight."

* * *

The plane touched down with a gentle jostle—in Star City, not Central. Len groaned as he held a napkin to the cut on his temple.

"I have a Band-Aid you can use," Barry's voice pierced through his haze of pain and disgruntledness. "I basically have a first aid kit in here. Always be prepared!" he added cheerily.

 _Fuck_ nice people. Naturally Barry had been a Boy Scout.

Len groaned again as he reached out.

"I got it. Here." Long fingers came up and gently pulled Len's wrist down, taking the napkin with it. When the napkin returned to Len's temple it was damp, probably from ice. A dry corner followed to wipe the wetness away, and then the brush of fingertips smoothed down the edges of a bandage.

Len had a terrible headache…but the offered tenderness helped. "Thanks."

"Sure thing."

"I'm not…usually like this." Len gestured ineffectually at himself, the situation, the universe.

"What? An asshole?" James said—completely jovial, no bite intended.

Len couldn't bring himself to scowl seriously when he looked at the man. "This much of a bad luck magnet. The asshole part's always true."

James and Barry both laughed, and despite the ridiculousness of the entire trip thus far, Len had to laugh too. Then he hissed as his head throbbed.

"I have some Advil."

"Of course you do. Thanks, Barry."

"Happy to help."

"I really am so sorry again," the woman in front of Len said between the seats, her son cradled against her now as he battled embarrassment and an upset stomach.

"Think nothing of it, ma'am. Just one of those days," Len said, and the day was bound to start looking up now that they'd landed…right?

Len was still wet half an hour later waiting at the baggage carousel for his luggage. He'd explained the situation to Lisa over the phone, said he'd make it up to her somehow, get a car and drive all night if he had to. No matter what, he would be there for Thanksgiving dinner.

"Bye, Len!" Barry called as he snatched up a beaten up red suitcase from the carousel. He waved as he headed toward the exit. "I hope you have a good trip home!"

"You too, Barry." Len half expected James to follow behind the kid, they'd hit it off so well on the plane, but James was preoccupied with a young blond attached by her legs around his waist. She had remarkably powerful thighs considering James didn't have free hands to hold her.

Len cursed himself for the flush of relief that filled him, as if it was any of his business if Barry hit it off with the other person he'd been sitting next to on the plane. The kid was half Len's age, or at least close enough. Len would probably forget all about Barry by the time he was driving down the interstate toward Central City. As soon as he had his bag, he was high-tailing it to the rental car desk and making his own way home.

Or so he'd hoped. Only after fifteen more minutes of waiting, with everyone else from his flight long gone and the carousel coming to a stop, Len's bag was nowhere to be seen.

* * *

TBC...

Yes, I realize my saltiness about Supergirl is showing. Take that!


	3. On the Road Again

**When Len's bad luck continues to spiral downward, his only hope of getting home to Central City...is Barry Allen in the last rental car.**

 **Be hopeful, be kind, be supportive of those you love.**

 **Here...have something fun and lighthearted. :-)**

* * *

"What do you mean it's in Bludhaven?" Len clenched his fists as they rested atop the service counter. "Why didn't it get on the plane with me?"

"Common mistake, sir," the woman said, her brunette curls bobbing as she remained trained on her computer, a few distinctly blond curls near her face catching the light. "It got double tagged, once for your actual flight, then accidentally again for a flight to Bludhaven. Unfortunately, that was the tag that was most visible." She looked up finally with a bright-toothed smile. "We can have your bag shipped to wherever you want, and we'll happily add some frequent flier miles—"

"I don't want _miles_. I already have a comped ticked. What I need right now is my clothes so I can get out of these wet ones that still smell like the back of a school bus!"

The woman's smile turned dangerously sweet. "I'm sorry we can't accommodate you, sir, but again, if you require any vouchers for a hotel or—"

Len practically howled in frustration, then calmed himself when he saw a stern-faced security officer who had the look about him of ex-military turn toward him with a frown. He turned back to the woman behind the desk and tried to compose himself. "Please, just let me give you my sister's address for the bag so I can grab a car out of here. Thank you." He took a deep breath, and looked at her imploringly.

She at least had more sympathy than the flight attendant and smiled at Len more genuinely.

Five minutes later, history seemed to repeat itself as Len discovered—

"No cars? Not a single one?" He was beyond yelling now, or losing his temper. He was in a state of shock. "Where am I supposed to go? How am I supposed to get out of here? I don't know anyone in Star City." Which wasn't entirely true. He did business around the country; he was bound to know someone in Star City, but the last thing he wanted was to hit up some billionaire for help.

The petite young man behind the rental car counter shrugged at him with a smugness Len did not appreciate. "The storm stranded a lot of flights, sir. I gave away the last car a few minutes ago. You'll have to hail a cab. Or maybe an Uber would take you all the way to Central. I hear you never know with those drivers nowadays."

Feeling half numb, half chilled from not yet escaping his damp clothes, Len trudged out of the airport toward the empty lot of rental cars, realizing he'd have to either trek around the place to one of the main areas for pickups and cabs, or go right back in to walk through the terminals, but he needed fresh air. He needed a drink. He needed to wake up from this nightmare.

Somehow this was all the fault of that man in Metropolis. Or maybe Barry. Definitely Barry and his sunny disposition and gorgeous, dimpled smile that had struck Len dumb too many times to think properly.

"Hey there! We keep meeting like this."

Len blinked down at the car that had just pulled up in front of him along the curb, with Barry Allen in the driver seat, grinning at him through the rolled down window—in the last rental car. Len fought the urge to dive in through the open window and strangle him.

"Going my way?" Barry said with an exaggerated eyebrow waggle, then immediately dropped his smile in a fluster. "Not to imply anything! Just uhh…I-I know you're also headed to Central and—"

Len held up a hand; he was done questioning the machinations of the universe. "Got any spare clothes?"

A few minutes later, Len sat in the passenger side of a red Elantra in nothing but his slacks with basically a complete stranger, about to put on the other man's shirt. His pants hadn't been hit as hard and weren't as dampened as his shirt and suit coat. His overcoat had escaped the wrath of the young boy's queasiness as well.

With his overcoat beneath him, and shirt and blazer tossed into the back of the car, Len fumbled with the navy sweatshirt Barry had gotten for him out of the trunk. He couldn't remember the last time he'd worn another man's clothes. At least then it had been after enjoyable activities. Today had been the road trip from hell and he still wasn't home.

Barry's hazel eyes glanced at Len briefly, then sidled over to watch him more closely rather than watch the road when he noticed Len's state of undress. It wasn't as if Len had any scars or tattoos to fixate on, and he wasn't as fit as he used to be. He was in good enough shape, but he had a little softness about the middle now that hadn't been there when he was Barry's age.

The attention, however much Barry tried to hide that he was giving it, was…nice.

"Regretting letting me borrow this?" Len said as he pulled the sweatshirt over his head. White snowflakes and the words 'Keep Your Cool' were emblazoned on the front.

"Huh? Uhh…no," Barry diverted his attention back to the road, clinging knuckle-white to the steering wheel like he'd been caught doing something naughty. Cute. "Just making sure it fits okay. I don't fill that shirt out nearly as well as you do. I mean as _much_!"

Len smirked. He felt better now wearing something clean and being in a warm car headed the right direction. He slid his overcoat back on anyway. He preferred layers.

It was then that he remembered the wristband Barry had given him as he straightened his cuffs. Given the circumstances, Len decided to keep it on a while longer.

"Music?" Barry said to cover his rambling, and reached for the radio. Metal blared initially, and while Len could enjoy any genre of music in the right frame of mind, he seriously hoped Barry wouldn't stick with Megadeth just to drown out his awkwardness.

Luckily, he flipped channels for a while until he hit an oldies station. Before long, Tiffany was crooning:

 _Running just as fast as we can  
Holdin' on to one another's hand  
Tryin' to get away into the night  
And then you put your arms around me  
And we tumble to the ground  
And then you say_

 _I think we're alone now..._

80s pop suited Barry ridiculously well.

Len started to roll his window up.

"Oh, uhh…can we keep that down?" Barry asked. "I like the fresh air when driving."

Len didn't particularly enjoy the strong flow of air striking him, but it wasn't the worst thing in the world. Plus, he did owe Barry. "Sure."

"You can put it up halfway if you don't mind me keeping the back windows open."

"Fine by me." Len did as directed and rolled the window part of the way up, while Barry rolled the back windows down. Compromise. Len could deal with compromise. They had a long drive ahead of them, after all. "So…tell me more about your work, Barry. I promise, this time I won't tease."

Barry chuckled. "Well…"

Len stuck to his word about not cracking jokes at Barry's expense, but it was difficult at times. Barry really took conspiracy theories and urban legends seriously. Scarily seriously. Like…maybe the kid should see a shrink, seriously.

He'd start off explaining why he believed this or that and had decided to write about it, and then go off on a tangent about how much evidence there was to believe it was all real, not just a hobby or good material for a story, just like he had with James about the wendigo.

After the better part of an hour of this pattern, Len had to ask, "Not to sound flippant here, Barry, but…how is it you believe in this stuff so much? Hard for someone like me to put stock in things I've never seen without evidence I can hold in my hands."

Not for the first time, Barry's friendly expression darkened until he looked like a blank slate staring out the windshield. "Sure, yeah, I…I get that. I don't expect people to believe me. But I have to believe."

 _In ghosts, and sorcerers, and shark people?_ "Why?"

Barry gripped the steering wheel tighter. "I don't like that some things don't have answers. Even if the answers I come to might seem crazy sometimes, it's nice to believe there's a reason for why unexplainable things happen, that somewhere, someone…knows the truth."

Len smiled. Kids these days were always chasing fairytales and answers to the universe in the impossible. Maybe it wasn't crazy so much as…wistful. Len didn't believe in magic anymore, but it wasn't fair to squash that for Barry.

"Fair enough," he said. "So tell me. How many of my favorite sci-fi movies do you think will pan out someday? _Aliens_? _Terminator_? _The Thing_?"

"Oh," Barry brightened again, "actually…"

Len grinned wider as Barry launched into another diatribe. Maybe the kid was growing on him. Len was definitely charmed when Barry's tale was suddenly interrupted by him exclaiming, "Ooo, I love this song!" and he proceeded to belt along loudly to _Take On Me_.

Normally, Len would have been annoyed at such chipperness. But Barry was infectious, and his voice— _wow_. Kid had loads of hidden talents, it seemed. Len was almost tempted to sing along with him, but then he would have had to kill Barry and that would spoil the fun.

If they drove all night, they could make it to Central by morning. Len appreciated that Barry agreed with that plan, and was willing drive the first several hours as it started to get dark. Len was only going to rest his eyes for a short while before he demanded Barry switch out for some rest of his own.

"Careful of your speed, kid. You know how cops are around the holidays," Len nodded toward the dash.

At the moment, Barry was only marginally over the limit, but that's all it would take. "Oops. Sorry. I have a lead foot sometimes."

"Eager to get home and see your folks?"

Barry twisted the steering wheel in his grip with a slight twitch at his mouth. "Yeah… Feels like I've been on the road forever. Mom was always such a great cook."

"You must have been away too long if you're doubting whether or not she still is," Len snorted.

"Huh? Oh…I didn't mean—"

"Keep an eye on the road, Barry. We can switch places after I've had some rest."

"Right. No worries. I'm used to all-nighters. I'll let you know if I need a break."

Len nodded and settled in, not realizing how tired he was from the whole ordeal of the day, despite his few winks on the plane, until he dozed off quicker than expected, even with the occasional humming or even light singing coming from Barry beside him.

Similar to how he'd jolted awake on the plane, Len returned to the land of the living from something startling him, to the sounds of _Tainted Love_ and a jostle as the car… _veered down into the ditch!_

"Barry!" Len dove over to grasp the steering wheel, righting it just in time to avoid hitting the sharp incline of the hill they'd been about to smash into.

"Huh? What?" Barry sputtered beside him.

"You fell asleep! Why didn't you wake me?"

Barry straightened as he returned to full consciousness and took the wheel back from Len, righting them onto the highway. "Oh my god, I am so sorry! I didn't realize I was that tired!"

Neither had Len, or he would have offered to drive sooner. He couldn't really be upset with Barry, since at least nothing terrible had happened. "Forget it, kid. This day has been too much for either of us to drive all night. Let's keep each other awake until we find a hotel and pick back up in the morning."

"You sure? Your sister—"

"She'll live. If we start early, we can still be in the city tomorrow by early afternoon for me to help with dinner."

"I am so sorry, Len."

"I said it's fine, Barry."

"No, I mean…this is the last exit coming up for the next forty miles, and well…that motel looks kinda…"

Flee-infested was the word that sprung to mind, as Barry pulled off the highway at the exit and the _Time Remembers When_ motel loomed ahead of them. The name conveyed the look of the place perfectly, since it could have been featured in a late night horror movie. If Barry was a serial killer in disguise, this would be his perfect opportunity to do Len in.

Len could barely bring himself to care.

"A bed's a bed. We can delouse ourselves tomorrow."

Len's resignation to stay at this place and get some actual sleep was immediately hampered by the news that apparently even the _Bates Motel_ filled up the night before Thanksgiving.

"Fine, whatever, we don't need two rooms, just as long as you got one room with two beds."

The unfriendly gaze of the man at the desk didn't waver. His faintly English-accented voice grated on Len with its superior tone. "Unfortunately for you gentleman, the motel only has one room remaining, and it's a double. As in one double bed, not two singles. Cash or credit?" He smiled with something more like a sneer, like maybe he got off on their suffering.

Len slapped his credit card down on the counter while plotting the man's untimely murder in his mind.

"Oh no, I can pay for the room," Barry spoke up, "I'm the one who fell asleep at the wheel."

"Don't worry about it, kid. You can buy breakfast and lunch if you want to pay me back." Plus, by the looks of Barry's frayed clothes and luggage, he wasn't making a killing at his day-job; he was just being polite, being the good kid who has to offer help at every turn. Len, however, wasn't the type of dick to accept that offer, and Barry, thankfully, didn't push.

"Well…if you're sure," he conceded.

It was only 60 bucks. Len's bank account would survive. "Let's just get some sleep."

The motel manager clearly had a different idea of what 'double' meant, because the bed was barely larger than a single. Their shoulders would overlap if they both laid flat. And the décor was reminiscent of 70s tacky on crack.

Barry blinked down at the small bed when they entered. "Um…I can—"

"It's fine," Len said before the kid offered to take the floor. "I'm a side sleeper anyway." He wasn't, but he didn't need Barry fretting about yet another piece of bad luck following Len around like a poltergeist. Len just wanted to put this day behind him. He could think of worse bedfellows than Barry Allen in a cramped motel room.

He could think of plenty of reasons why Barry Allen was an _ideal_ bedfellow, but he wasn't about to let his mind wander that direction when they were going to be in a compromising position for eight hours.

Len stripped down to his boxers, but kept on the sweatshirt Barry had loaned him, while Barry changed into a pair of sleep pants and a T-shirt. Len then quickly washed his old clothes in the bathtub as thoroughly as possible and hung them up to dry in the shower until morning. Cleaning out his cut had stung a little, but at least the bleeding had stopped.

Remarkably, the front desk had an extra dollar store toothbrush, so after brushing his teeth, Len collapsed into bed where Barry lay reading a magazine labeled _The Unimaginable Explained_.

Len couldn't help the way his eyes strayed to Barry's open suitcase in the corner, the array of clothing, several other magazines that had to make the case extremely heavy, as well as a few odd knickknacks—was that a plastic dinosaur?—that just screamed transient who lives out of his luggage. No wonder the kid was eager to get home.

The bottle of pills peeking out from beneath the folds of a T-shirt was curious, probably for the anxiety Barry had mentioned, not that Len would pry.

"Do you need another bandage?" Barry asked, with a nod at Len's cut.

"It's fine."

"Okay. Do you mind if I read for a bit longer?"

"Knock yourself out," Len said, settling onto his side away from Barry for decency's sake, and trying not to think of what a black light would make of this bedding. It was comfy enough, and the warmth of Barry behind him almost erased the awkwardness of sharing a bed with someone he'd only met that day. He was pretty sure the kid wasn't secretly a serial killer. Probably.

"Good night, Len."

"Good night, Barry."

* * *

Someday soon, Len would once again know what it was like to sleep without interruption, but tonight was not that night. He awoke at some ungodly hour shivering as he found himself almost completely uncovered. The light was off, and the gentle sound of Barry's even breathing filled the room.

Len reached behind him and, as expected, almost all of the covers were bunched around Barry's body. Len rolled over with a grumble. The kid had cocooned himself impressively tight, leaving Len barely a sliver of sheets or corner of the comforter. He tugged at them to pry some of the blankets back from Barry, but the slumbering brunette merely snuggled in deeper.

Len was about ready to shove Barry off of the bed to wake him, he was too tired to put up with this shit, when he heard the kid whimper, then saw him tremble, then noticed the sparkle of wetness on his cheeks.

Nightmare. Len softened as he leaned over Barry…but he still wanted some of the covers.

"Come on, kid," he whispered, gently untucking the blankets from around Barry and pulling with a little more force, while also holding a hand to Barry's shoulder to keep from disturbing him too much. Or maybe he _should_ disturb him. Kid obviously wasn't enjoying his dream.

With one more impressive yank, the majority of the blankets gave way—and so did Barry, pulled toward Len until he rolled to face him and snuggled in against Len's body like a cat. Len froze. He had his half of the blankets back, and was able to drape them over himself, but now he had a twenty-something young man treating him as a body pillow.

A very adorable young man with a taut, lanky body, all legs that Len imagined could wrap rather beautifully around his waist.

 _No, no, no._ Len could not think like that while down to his boxers, with Barry in very thin sleep pants, wriggling closer, radiated warmth. At least his whimpering had stopped.

Len sighed. Barry had freckles he hadn't noticed before, and in that moment, with Barry pressed against him, he was so very tempted to wipe away the remaining tears on the kid's cheeks, to lean forward and steal a taste of those slightly parted lips…

He couldn't. He _wouldn't_. Not with Barry sleeping, trusting him more than many people who'd known him for longer than a day ever would. But it was sweet to imagine, what it might be like if Barry woke up and found them like this, and instead of scrambling back in embarrassment, maybe he'd be the one to bridge the tiny gap separating their lips.

 _Shit_ , Len needed a boyfriend. Or a girlfriend. Or a blowjob. But he'd settle for just one kiss from a beautiful boy who never shut up.

Barry somehow managed to snuggle closer, and Len's best intentions would not be able to prevent him from reacting if this kept on. He had to wake Barry and save them both the embarrassment.

"Barry…" he whispered.

Barry mumbled incoherently and nuzzled his cheek against Len's neck.

"Barry," Len said a little louder.

Barry mumbled again.

" _Barry_." Len didn't want to have to shake him, but he had to be the bigger man here, before this got out of hand. Even if the kid did look angelic while he—

"Don't _wanna_ ," Barry said, and promptly kneed Len in the groin as he pushed away from him to roll back onto his other side.

"Son of a—" Len bit off his curse with something akin to a squeak as his breath was knocked from him, and the growing problem between his legs rapidly dwindled. Len curled in on himself away from the now contently murmuring and soon snoring Barry, who remained oblivious to the entire ordeal.

 _Fuck_ this entire day.

* * *

TBC...

Everyone who ever has a line is meant to reference some DC character or another. This one was filled mostly with Legends people, though the petite car rental guy was meant to be Roy, which I don't think I portrayed too clearly.

Thanks for reading! Two chapters to go.


	4. Powder Keg

**Thank you for your comments through this so far. One chapter to go.**

* * *

Len woke up in the morning to the sounds of Barry getting ready. Not that the kid was loud, just making general shuffling noises accompanied by light humming, which was more than enough to rouse Len when the sun was starting to stream in through the windows.

He noticed immediately that while he had only grabbed his overcoat when he switched from the bed to the chair last night, now he had the comforter around him too. Just when Len wanted to be mad at Barry, he couldn't again.

"You're awake!" Barry exclaimed upon exiting the bathroom, hair still damp from having showered, smelling like peppermint and soap, in a fresh pair of still rather worn looking clothes—jeans and a burgundy button down.

Len let the comforter pool onto the floor as he stood, and took his overcoat to drape over the chair he'd vacated. His back ached in protest from having slept like that. Even if he hadn't been in his 40s, sleeping upright wasn't comfortable. His left side was definitely going to have a twinge all day, especially with a few more hours in the car ahead of him.

"Did I snore? Or kick? Or, god…drool on you?" Barry rushed over to him with that damnable puppy expression that made Len want to grasp him by the chin and kiss him.

He opened his mouth to explain, that yes, actually, all of those things had happened to some extent, when he noticed that his clothes had been carefully laid out on the bed, dry and mostly clean for him to wear again. Barry must have taken the time to set them out before jumping in the shower.

And now he was looking at Len with hope and innocence shining from his green depths. Damn it.

"Not a big deal, kid. Just couldn't seem to settle in. You're fine. Sounded like maybe you weren't having the best dreams though…?" Len broached the subject casually enough that Barry could dismiss the topic if he chose, but he was curious about what had made the kid cry and whimper in his sleep before he rammed a knee into Len's balls.

"Oh…" There went the light in Barry's eyes, leaving behind an eerie sadness that clung to him. "I don't remember." He smiled widely—falsely.

Len nodded. "I'll be quick," he said, and made his way to the bathroom to get ready.

Less than twenty minutes later, they were on the road. When Len reached for his bag on the way out the door, he didn't notice that Barry had accidentally grabbed the newer one, leaving Len to carry the older, more worn model as if it were his own. Len kept what he thought was his bag at his feet, while Barry tossed the other one in the back.

They stopped for breakfast after the first hour and Barry pulled his wallet from his pocket to pay before Len could protest. "It's the least I can do."

They ate quickly, eager to get back on the road and make good time given the time they'd lost, but they still needed to eat, and Len hated being cooped up in a car for too long.

As they were finishing eating, he couldn't help asking, "So, a paranormal travel writer, heading home for the holidays. Your folks must worry about you out on your own. Or are you the lover in every port sort of transient?" He grinned teasingly as he took a last bite of his eggs.

Barry blushed beautifully. It was worth it to tease him a little, to subtly flirt, probably completely beyond Barry recognizing it for what it was, if only to see him turn that particular shade of scarlet. "I don't really…date."

"Didn't say anything about dating." Len raised an eyebrow.

Barry practically choked on his toast. "Nothing like…that either."

Len chuckled but decided to have mercy on the kid. "No worried girlfriend?"

"No girlfriend. No boyfriend," he added with a thoughtful tilt of his head and rather purposeful avoidance of Len's eyes—huh. But then he trailed without trailing, just sort of let the silence stretch out as if there was more to say.

 _No friends_ , Len thought. What secrets was this kid hiding? Just lonely?

"Only Mom and Dad in your life, huh?" Len said, smiling to keep the mood light. "Pretty pathetic."

Barry's mouth twitched with a sad smile, showing he got that Len was only joking around, but his eyes went distant and empty again as he said, "Yeah…"

"Just giving you a hard time," Len said. "There aren't rules about having to be with someone just because you're a certain way or a certain age. I'm not too different from you. Just my sister really. A few close friends."

"Single?" Barry asked—hopefully, Len thought, though maybe he was just projecting. He nodded, and Barry added with a smile, "And loving it?"

Len huffed. "Wouldn't go that far."

Their eyes met, any further words stale on their tongues, as a comfortable yet charged silence gripped them and grew stronger like one of those surges of static discharge Barry kept shocking Len with, begging for one of them to act.

Which was when the waitress came over to give them their check. Just as well. Once they got to Central, Len would probably never see this kid again. The last thing he needed was some awkward fling on Thanksgiving, or the promise of an 'I'll call you sometime' that would likely never happen. Though Len couldn't help but wonder…

When Barry wasn't driving him crazy, he was very pleasant company.

 _When Barry wasn't driving Len crazy._

Ten minutes into their next leg of the journey home, Len, having demanded to drive for a while, noticed that the gas gauge was empty.

" _Barry_. Weren't you paying attention? We should have gotten gas with breakfast. How far until the next exit?"

"Uhhh…" Barry looked cornered, especially when the next exit sign appeared to tell them that they had another forty minutes before they reached a town called Dinwiddle.

 _Why are these stops so spread out?_ Len wondered with an ever-growing twitch at his left eye. _And seriously…Dinwiddle?_

"If I have to call my sister again…"

"I'm sorry!" Barry said. "I don't normally drive much. I forgot to keep track. I'm sure we'll make it."

They did not. The car sputtered to a stop within view of the 'next exit 5 miles' sign. Len gripped the steering wheel like he might rip the whole thing out, and turned to glare at Barry slowly.

"It's not that far!" Barry's eternal optimism was quickly steering Len toward irritated rather than attracted. How Barry could both infuriate and charm him, he didn't know, but his patience was running thin than melting ice.

With their bags left in the passenger and back seat again, Barry steered while Len pushed. Without a gas can, walking for help just seemed like a waste of time. Maybe someone would pass them and stop to assist. But no. It was Thanksgiving Day; everyone was already where they needed to be, so very few people were on the road.

When Len was sure his arms were about to fall off, Barry insisted that they swap places. Len was doubtful, but the kid turned out to be impressively strong for such a string bean.

They were both exhausted and shaky by the time they reached the gas station. Barry insisted on paying for the gas and anything Len wanted for the road. Len accepted the crumpled up bills Barry handed him and got them both coffee and water bottles, but considered that enough penance.

As he was heading back out of the store with Barry's change and his hands full, he noticed that the kid hadn't quite put the gas nozzle away yet, but was staring distractedly at a minivan with a redheaded mother, a brunette father, and their young son who looked like a perfect combination of them both.

This wouldn't have been anything worth noting, if Barry wasn't holding the gas nozzle aloft, spraying excess gas in through the open back window of their car!

"Barry!" Len called, sprinting toward him.

Barry startled like he had after falling asleep at the wheel last night, completely in his own world. He looked at Len before he noticed the gas spilling into the car, then fumbled to right the nozzle and put it away.

"Oh my god!" Barry said for at least the ninth time since Len had met him. How did this kid function on his own? "I am so sorry! I must have drifted off."

Len fought to control the bite to his tone. "Why did you have to insist on always having the windows open? Now, without getting the car professionally cleaned, we're practically a powder keg." And it was going to smell awful.

"Maybe the gas station has something." Barry stepped away from the car to head inside.

"Don't bother, let's just…" Len trailed as several things happened in seeming slow motion.

The family with the young son pulled away, revealing a blond man with a tan trench coat on a motorcycle about to head out behind them, who had a cigarette between his lips that he flicked away as he kicked his bike into gear. The act would have been foolish in normal circumstances so close to a gas station, but the wind picked up at just that moment…and carried the still smoldering cigarette in through the open window of their rental car!

Flames erupted along the seat, reaching the bag in the back in seconds, while the motorcyclist drove on completely unaware that anything had happened.

"Barry!" Len cried yet again, stumbling back from the car as it caught on fire rapidly with help from the gasoline. "Get a fire extinguisher!"

Barry didn't move. He stared at the growing flames in shock.

" _Barry!_ "

All at once the kid came to his senses, not to run to the gas station as ordered, but to reach the other side of the car to try to save his bag, which was already succumbing to the flames.

"What are you doing!?" Len tossed the water and cups of coffee to the ground to chase after Barry and stop him from opening the door.

"I have to save it!" Barry fought fiercely as Len seized him about the waist. "My parents gave me that bag!"

"So they'll buy you another one!"

Barry shook his head frantically, near hysterics like Len had never seen from him before. "I have to save it! I have to _save it_!"

"Barry, stop!" Len was amazed at how quickly the kid began to overpower him. He might have given up and let Barry burn his hands rather than risk an elbow to the face, when the attendant from inside came running out of the building with the fire extinguisher.

She let loose with the foam perfectly aimed through the open car window, though the sheer force meant that Barry and Len on the other side of the car got sprayed too—mostly Barry. Len had flecks of foam along the edges of his overcoat, but at least that was better than vomit.

When the attendant had finished, Barry finally started to relax, though Len still had to hold onto him to keep him from reaching for the charred bag while it was still smoking. Eventually, Barry sagged into Len's hold completely, defeated and glassy eyed.

"They gave me that bag the day…" Barry's voice faded off.

The day he went to college? Len could only guess at the sentimental value. He held Barry tighter as the attendant mentioned something about calling the police and flitted off.

"I doubt your parents would want you risking injury just for some _bag_ , Barry," Len said. "They'd rather see you, unmarred and safe. Just like my sister wants to see me. Now come on." Finally, he felt like he could release Barry without the kid doing anything stupid. He patted Barry's shoulder before stepping back. "We can't drive this thing anymore. Maybe we can hitch a ride with the authorities to the train station. Let me give my sister a call."

Len moved around to the other side of the car, and reached for his bag in the front…only to realize as he opened it for the first time in so many hours that his cell phone was nowhere to be found—because this wasn't his bag. It was Barry's.

Which meant…

"Oh thank god," Barry said, when Len handed him the treasured possession. Then he looked up, saw Len's drawn face staring at his own smoldering bag and likely destroyed cell phone—and credit cards, ID, along with everything else that mattered since he didn't have his suitcase—in the backseat of their charred car. "Oh…" Barry said in embarrassed sympathy. "Sorry."

Len felt too numb to respond.

The attendant came back—Len could have sworn she was blond when she used the extinguisher, but apparently she was brunette—and told them that the police wouldn't be able to come check things out for at least a few hours, it being Thanksgiving Day and all, and this not being an emergency since no one had been injured.

"But don't worry. You can leave me your information. The train station's only ten miles out. I'm sure someone would be willing to give you a lift."

Someone likely might have…if anyone new had shown up. That family and the man on the motorcycle were it. After nearly twenty minutes of waiting, with no one else showing up as it neared noon on a holiday that revolved around food, they had to cut their losses and start walking—Barry with his bag secure over his shoulder, while he rolled his suitcase behind him, and Len nothing but the clothes on his back.

"At least it's a nice day," Barry offered cheerfully.

It was barely above 45 degrees and overcast.

Len stayed quiet if only to keep from screaming. Five miles had been bad enough pushing the car. Ten miles was torture as the hours ticked by and he couldn't even tell his sister that he was going to be late. Barry didn't own a cell phone. Who in this day and age didn't own a cell phone? Len hadn't thought to ask the gas station attendant if he could use her phone before they started walking. They didn't even know when the next train would be leaving once they got there.

"I'm really sorry about your bag," Barry kept trying to start a conversation, to apologize, but the magic that had sprung up between them was diminished now as Len fell prey to yet another setback to making it home, which all seemed to revolve around Barry. How could he have ever found this walking bad luck charm appealing?

Len didn't reply.

"I'm sorry about your phone. And your wallet. And…and everything really. But especially the car. That was entirely my fault. I don't know what got into me."

Len just needed to keep walking down the deserted, empty, daunting highway, and not look at Barry so he didn't feel like decking the kid across the face.

"I'll make it up to you somehow, I promise. I'll pay for everything. I wonder if the insurance on that rental car accounts for accidental arson…"

Nope, Len was not going to give in to the urge to kill the kid, he was just going to take a deep breath, and another, and keep moving—

"At least it couldn't get any worse, right?"

A crack of thunder sounded overhead, and Len could have counted the seconds before the sky opened up with a torrential downpour as if Barry himself had flipped a switch on mother nature.

 _Nice day._

 _Couldn't get_ worse _._

"Oh…uhh…" Barry started fumbling with his suitcase. "You know, I think I might have an umbrella—"

"What is _wrong_ with you?" Len whirled on Barry with clenched fists, clothing once again drenched, rain pouring down his face—freezing, since it was cold enough that fifteen degrees colder would have resulted in _snow_. He glared at the enigma before him, who continued to be upbeat and so damn naïve even when the world was literally sending them a huge _fuck you._

"Huh?" Barry stopped and looked at him bewildered—innocent and thoroughly exasperating. "I'm just trying to be helpful."

" _Helpful_?" Len snapped back, watching the rain drip down Barry's boyish, sweet face, cleaning away the foam but plastering his hair to his forehead and cheeks. "How have you been helpful to me _so far_? Trouble _flocks_ to you. Whatever awful thing that might have happened on its own, the universe creates more chaos simply because _you're around_. Everything has gotten worse every time you try to help!"

"I…" Barry's expression turned crestfallen. "But I didn't…I didn't mean for any of that to happen! I just wanted to help. That's what people do. They help each other, even if they're strangers, even if they have no reason to help other than that they should."

"Are you kidding me?" Len sneered. No wonder this kid was a disaster on legs. "You're living in a fantasy world, Barry. Makes sense you keep chasing after things that don't exist."

As thunder banged overhead and the first streaks of lightning lit up the sky, Len moved steadily into Barry's personal space and stared him down—this oblivious walking menace.

"People aren't nice. People lie, and cheat, and steal."

"And kill," Barry said quietly, cowing in on himself so that he seemed smaller, even though he was usually taller than Len.

" _Yes_ ," Len spread his arms wide. "People kill. People are assholes, whether you treat someone's wounds with the extra bandage in your bag _or_ set their possessions on fire. I'm an asshole, Barry! And you're just an asshole waiting to happen. Give it a few years. You'll turn out just like the rest of us."

Len jerked away and started walking again, sloshing through the rain. He didn't even know how much longer they had to go before they reached the train station, but he needed to be away from the ray of sunshine following him around like a damn storm cloud of trouble.

"Hey!" But of course Barry didn't get the hint. He chased after Len, easily able to catch up to him with his long legs, even while dragging his suitcase. "Maybe you are an asshole. You're certainly being one right now. But you're not always an asshole. The guy who chatted with me in the airport, and who hummed along with me in the car, who had kind words to say despite all the bad luck he was having…he's a good person. So I'm going to forgive you, Len, because I know that you're just wet, and stressed, and cold right now, and you don't really mean anything you said to me."

Len practically snarled as he whirled on Barry again. "You know what, maybe you didn't cause the plane to get delayed, or my seat to change, or that kid to throw up on me, but your 'kindness' has led to nothing but disaster ever since, like it clings to your god damn _skin_."

"I said I was _sorry_."

"Well I don't accept apologies from delusional basket cases!"

Barry sniffled back with a look of true hurt, and finally Len felt a pang of regret for his outburst. "Well…well maybe disaster does follow me around!" Barry railed back. If it hadn't been raining like a monsoon, Len would have sworn the wetness from Barry's eyes had nothing to do with the weather. "But I didn't mean for any of it to happen. And it shouldn't mean I have to be an asshole to everyone else just because bad things happened to me. I like looking on the bright side of a thunderstorm, okay, and nothing, not even you, is ever going to change—"

A crack so loud it rang through Len's eardrums shattered the roar of the storm, and before Len could realize what had happened, he was on his back.

He blinked up at the rain still coming down hard from the sky above, and had to turn and sputter water out of his mouth to keep from drowning. He gasped for a few moments before he looked up and saw how the pavement was smoking…from where lightning had struck the road and tore through the concrete with an impressive zigzaging crack.

"Barry!"

* * *

TBC...

Originally Mick was going to be the one to set the car on fire, but he shows up later as Len's friend, so Constantine it was. Also, Caitlin was the attendant. :-)

Oh and Dinwiddle was an inside joke from my traveling recently. A friend said I had to include it, lol.

More next week!


	5. Lightning Strike

**I figured alot of people would be busy tomorrow already with Thanksgiving (for those in America) so have the last chapter a day earlier than planned. :-)**

 **Thank you to those who followed this one. It was a fun ride.**

* * *

"Barry!" Len cried, realizing he could see no sign of the kid. His suitcase lay on its side, singed but unharmed near the giant smoking crack in the road. "Barry!" He scrambled to his feet and darted down the highway, looking for some clue as to where Barry had gone.

The ditch plunged deep along the side of the road, shadowing much of what lay beyond due to the force of the storm. Only when Len reached the edge and peered through the darkness as another flash of lightning lit up the area did he see the hint of a figure in a burgundy shirt.

"Barry!" If it hadn't been raining, Len might have been able to see the marks in the grass where Barry had rolled.

He started scurrying down the slippery surface and almost toppled over as he skidded at the bottom. He reached for Barry's shoulder, half expecting to find the kid's face half-charred off and smoldering. But as soon as Barry gasped up at the sky, Len saw that he was merely dazed, shaking from cold and adrenaline, but very much okay.

"God _damn_ , kid. That lightning almost hit you." Len wrenched him up into a sitting position to save Barry from drowning like he had. "Though maybe it was aiming for me…and I'm the walking disaster."

He didn't know what else to say. He felt as low as the muddy ground beneath them. He never lost his cool like that, he'd just been pushed too far for too long. He hadn't meant to take it all out on Barry.

Barry shook his head, hair sopping wet and darker from the rain. "No…I-I'm the disaster," he sniffled, crying openly despite the rain trying to wash it away as he sat there in the soaked grass. "Bad things…always happen to the people around me. I-I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Len."

"Barry, it's—"

"Hey! You two alive down there?!" a distant voice called to them from the road.

Len and Barry both looked up. The highway wasn't far, but the din of the storm had nearly drowned out the man's words. Headlights cutting through the growing darkness proved he'd pulled over after seeing what had happened.

Len tugged Barry to his feet, and they started the laborious slog back up the ditch, with Barry clinging to his messenger bag all the while.

The man who'd stopped had a scruffy blond beard and a Honda Civic that had seen better days, but he'd stopped when he saw the lightning strike and agreed to drop them at the train station. Barry's singed suitcase made the car smell like copper, but at least they were warm and able to dry off somewhat.

"How did you see us?" Barry asked, barely able to see through the windshield as the storm raged on outside.

The man shrugged from the driver's seat. "Never had much trouble weathering storms."

Len and Barry sat together in the back, knees close to touching even though they barely looked at each other. They couldn't exactly continue the conversation they'd been having with someone else present. Thankfully, they reached the station in only a few minutes. They thanked the driver repeatedly before heading inside to see when the next train would be. Amazingly enough, they didn't have long to wait.

Barry paid, since he was the only one of them with any money, though by the looks of things, his wallet was growing thin. By the time they had their tickets sorted, the train was already pulling up to take them the last leg into Central City.

Barry walked ahead before Len could say anything. "I'll find somewhere up front to sit so I don't…bother you anymore," he said, eyes downcast, unwilling to meet Len's gaze. "I hope you have a good Thanksgiving with your family, Len." He flashed a smile, eyes glancing up only briefly, and then he turned away as he hurried onto the train.

Len stood a moment debating if he should go after him, but he had been such an asshole, he didn't know what to say now to make things up to Barry. He shuffled slowly onto the train and went to his assigned seat for the short trip home. He hadn't had time to call Lisa on a payphone, but he would once he was in the city, and take a cab to reach her home. He hoped his baggage was already there so he could finally change.

With nothing but the clothes on his back, there wasn't much for him to do with his time other than stare out the window when the train finally started to move. Only five minutes passed before a hesitant clearing of the throat drew Len's attention to the aisle. Barry stood before him with his bags and foam-stained burgundy shirt looking sheepish.

"Sorry, the ticket person was a little intense. Said I had to take my actual seat for a while to store my bags. But I can probably sit somewhere else after they've been by to check—"

"No, Barry…" Len had to take this opportunity to apologize. The kid looked like a drowned puppy. "Look, you were right. I didn't mean any of what I said. I was angry and wet and cold. You were great company whenever things weren't going to shit."

Barry laughed suddenly enough that Len had to smile. Slowly, Barry hoisted his suitcase up into the above compartment and sat across from Len with that faded messenger bag tight at his side. "It's okay. To be fair, there were a lot of things that went to shit. And several of them were my fault."

"Still. I was a dick."

Barry laughed a little more heartily, but a pleasant blush colored his cheeks. "You were. But you were pretty pleasant company most of the time too. I'm really sorry I set your things on fire. And—"

"Please don't list it all again." Len held up a hand. "But…thanks. Wish we had something to help pass the time." He looked around at his lack of possessions. "Being this close to the end of the line has me twitchy. Need something to do with my hands." He flexed his fingers to make his point. He'd even settle for a crossword puzzle.

"I might have something you can do with your hands," Barry said with a smile—completely innocently, until his cheeks reddened at the implications of what he'd just said. Len snorted, as Barry hastily added, "I mean cards! I think I have a deck of cards in here somewhere." He fumbled with his bag, digging deep into the recesses until he pulled out what was indeed a slightly weathered but entirely usable set of playing cards. "Wanna play?"

Maybe this kid was some sort of spirit of mischief, with the weird luck he carried and his magical bag of tricks. Len sat forward. "Know how to play two-person Hearts?"

They played a few hands then switched to Rummy. They kept score, but Len couldn't have said what either of their scores were by the time they reached Central City and realized their journey together had finally come to an end.

Barry packed up his cards, took down his suitcase, and Len walked with him out to the platform. Barry even waited while Len called Lisa, explained the insanity of the past several hours, and that he was only a cab's ride away if she could please just be ready with some cash when he got there. Then he shook Barry's hand as he prepared to head off, his cab already waiting.

"I don't have any cards to give you, they were all in my wallet, and you don't have a cell phone," Len said as they shook. "So tell ya what, kid, look me up at Rogues Inc. anytime. I can help pay for the damages to the rental car. I mean it," he insisted when Barry opened his mouth to protest. "You covered plenty for this journey. Let me know if you need any help. Okay?"

"Okay, Len. And thanks. Tell your sister happy Thanksgiving from me."

"I will. And you wish your parents the same from me. They must be worried sick by now."

"Oh…it's fine. No one worries about me anymore."

"I doubt that, Barry."

They parted, Len got into his cab, Barry turned to wander down the platform toward…wherever he was headed, and Len couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. It shouldn't end this way, but what more could he do? The kid had his own Thanksgiving dinner to get to with his family.

His family…

 _No one worries about me anymore._

 _It's nice to believe there's a reason for why unexplainable things happen, that somewhere, someone…knows the truth._

 _Mom was always such a great cook._

 _They_ _gave me that bag the day…_

Len's hand drifted to his wrist and he found the motion sickness band Barry had lent him. He'd never given it back.

 _I wear it more for nerves than nausea._

Dozens of simple phrases played through Len's mind as the city passed by the window outside. The sight should have been soothing—he was finally home—but he couldn't get it out of his head that he'd missed something important in the empty looks and quiet words, the nightmare Barry had had, the anxiety meds, the keepsakes, living out of his suitcase, how fervently he'd tried to save that bag when he thought it was burning…

"Hey, GQ, while I'd love to keep you occupied and let the meter run, you're here," the young cabbie called back to him, startling Len out of his thoughts to realize that indeed he was parked outside Lisa's picket-fence home in the Central City suburbs. It reminded him of his own home growing up, but the picturesque nature of things on the outside was reflected on the inside in ways Len hadn't had back then.

"Sorry. Thanks. There's my sister to pay you," Len said, seeing Lisa open the door and step out onto the porch with a hand on her growing belly.

Cisco appeared a moment later to take the cash from her and darted out into the rain. He held the cash out to Len in the hopes of hurrying things along, but all Len could do was stare.

"Wait," he finally said when Cisco looked at him expectantly. "Give me an extra fifty."

" _What?_ " Cisco gaped. "Why? Kind of an excessive tip. Or…" He eyed the young cab driver like maybe he didn't want to know the reasons Len would pay him so much extra.

"I forgot something at the train station." Len promptly glared at the suggestion. "I have to go back. I'll be…I'll be right back!" he called to Lisa, and waved to try to alleviate the immediate frown she wore as she realized what he was doing. "I have to get something! I'll be back!" he said again, and snatched the money from Cisco's hand before the younger man could complain.

Len slammed his door shut and called to the driver, "Back to the train station."

"Okay. Your dime."

It was a risky guess that Barry would still be there, but somehow Len was certain he was right.

The trip through the city back to where he'd started from seemed to take forever, but when they arrived, the train station looked even more deserted than when they'd left it. Len still had to try. He had to check.

"Wait for me," he told the cabbie, and darted down the platform in the direction he'd seen Barry go. He spanned the entire length of the station, all the way to the end of the platform, peering into the building through the windows and looking for some sign as to where the kid might have gone. When he reached the end, his eyes caught movement at the very back of the station, and he slipped in through the doors to see if his hunch was right.

Barry sat with his bags around him, changed out of his dirty clothes into fresh ones, hair damp as if he'd rinsed it quickly in the bathroom, setting up shop right there as if he meant to sleep in the station for the night. Even with no one else around, Barry didn't take notice of Len at first. He sat amongst his things, feet kicked up, staring off into space.

"Shouldn't you be getting home to your parents?" Len said, nearly causing Barry to tumble out of his seat in his surprise. Len hadn't said the words with any truth to them, because he had an idea now about the answer. He let it show on his face that he knew the truth as he looked at Barry and slowly walked toward him.

Barry sat up, stood, wearing a grey sweater that looked warm but also like it had seen better days, and Len had to wonder when Barry had last bought something new, or how often his freelancing meant he ran out of money and had nowhere to go.

Barry looked away from him, like he was embarrassed, and rubbed a nervous hand up and down his arm before he finally spoke the truth. "My parents have been dead for fifteen years."

 _Fifteen_? Maybe foster homes contributed to Barry's transient nature, maybe not, but that was over half his life, building sadness upon sadness and still facing most of what came at him with a dauntless smile.

"What are you doing here, Barry?" Len asked.

"I'm not homeless," Barry said, again as if he was ashamed of how this looked. Gradually, his hazel eyes met Len's. "I own my parents' home. I just don't want to go to an empty house. I don't even know why I come to Central on Thanksgiving anymore. I think some part of me hopes that if I just…pretend hard enough…" Tears welled up in his eyes, and he looked away again, then turned completely around as his hand reached up to his face.

Len was not historically a comforter, but seeing this kid cry had been hard enough in the dead of night when he was sleeping; he couldn't sit by now, when there were no barriers to pretend this wasn't happening.

He moved closer, gripped Barry's arm, and tugged him around, firm but not too forceful, so that if Barry wanted to brush him off, he could. Instead the kid turned almost greedily at the contact and threw himself into Len's arms. Len tightened his grip on Barry as he held him. He didn't ask, he just waited, and let Barry decide when he was ready to speak.

"They never caught him—the killer. It was Thanksgiving and…and my birthday that year."

"Birthday?"

"It was last week," Barry said, as if that somehow made it better that this year they didn't fall on the same day. "My parents gave me that bag as a present. I was ten years old. I wanted to play adventurer and keep all my discoveries in it like Indiana Jones," Barry snuffled a pitiable laugh into Len's shoulder. "It wasn't cold out, so I played outside while I waited for them to call me to set the table. But they never did. I didn't even hear anything, didn't see what happened, but when I started to get hungry, and they hadn't called for me…I found them. No explanation. No evidence. Just the turkey burning in the oven and both their bodies on the floor…"

Len instinctively squeezed Barry tighter. The kid's choice of occupation, his love for that battered bag, everything clicked into place when before the puzzle had been incomplete. "I'm so sorry, Barry."

Barry nodded as he sniffed back tears. "I only come home once a year, but it's so hard to…see anyone. My adopted family keeps trying to contact me, but I…I haven't seen them in years. I write sometimes. It's too hard to face them. I grew up and just…ran away."

"Barry…do you want to go home and see them?"

"No," Barry shook his head fiercely. For all the courage it had taken him to share his past with Len, he wasn't ready for that yet.

"Okay. But you should see them while you're here. I'm sure they'd like that. For now…" Len couldn't believe he was offering this, but he couldn't imagine any other outcome, "…do you want to come home with me and have Thanksgiving with us?"

Barry pulled back with a gasp. His eyes looked so green while they were damp. "Oh, I…I couldn't impose like that. You're seeing your _family_."

"And close friends, I told you," Len said, squeezing Barry's arms before he could pull away. "We have room for one more. I already told my sister I forgot something at the train station. Only way to get her to forgive me for running out the second I arrived is to show up with something special." Len grinned at the way Barry's cheeks darkened. "She'll love you. She'll love torturing me by telling you embarrassing stories about me…but she'll love you."

Barry laughed as he used the back of his hand to wipe away the remaining tears on his cheeks. "I'm not…completely broke. I can help pay—"

"Don't worry about it. Just come on. Get in the cab with me. Eat a good meal. Sleep in a real bed. If you feel like being brave in the morning and seeing your family, you can do that. If you want to stay the weekend and loiter around my sister's house with me, you can do _that_." He grinned wider when Barry once again fell into helpless laughter. "Can't do too much damage now that we're finally at our destination. But if my sister's house somehow manages to burn down…"

Misery crossed Barry's face, though he smiled through it when he saw that Len was only joking. "At that point I'd have to get on my knees to beg your forgiveness." And, just as Len was used to, Barry blanched as soon as he thought harder about what he'd said. "I didn't mean—"

"Come on, kid," Len patted his shoulder. "You can eat your other foot in the cab."

It was during the drive to Lisa's that Len tried to offer the wristband back to Barry, but he shook his head. "You keep that one. Might need it, right?"

Len wasn't even sure if it had helped his nerves or any motion sickness, but he found he didn't want to part with it. "Thanks."

Once they arrived back at Lisa and Cisco's, the house did not burn down. In fact, the entire afternoon and evening of Thanksgiving Day somehow managed to continue without a hitch.

The food was done on time and delicious for an early dinner. Lisa adored Barry, and after barely any prompting, Barry and Cisco seemed to hit it off like long-lost friends. Len's friend Mick gave him a few hinting glances about the kid, which of course Len promptly denied with a shake of his head, but when Mick's 'yeah right' expression didn't go away, Len had to concede with a sigh, because…nothing had happened, but he couldn't say he wasn't interested.

Something about the kid just enraptured him, even when half the time he wanted to shove a rolled up rag into Barry's mouth to shut him up. The other half of the time he had very different ideas about what he could do with that mouth…

Everyone seemed equally taken with Barry, even Sara, who usually scrutinized new people with the same cold stare as Len, but the kid's ideas on the paranormal kept everyone engaged with fascinating conversation for hours.

No one asked why Barry had nowhere to go for the holiday; they knew better. They all had missing family too. No one pressed for information about Len and Barry's adventures on the road either, though Lisa would want details later. They merely welcomed Barry to the table as if Len had brought a significant other home.

"Cute kid. I approve," Mick said at one point.

"Mick…"

"Please. Don't try to pretend otherwise, pal. You see the way he steals glances when yer not lookin'?"

Obviously not, if it was happening when Len wasn't looking. But…wait. "What kind of glances?"

Mick laughed and smacked Len on the shoulder.

Only Len and Barry were staying the night. Lisa and Cisco used to have two guest bedrooms but one was being remodeled into the nursery, which left Barry to the pullout in the living room. Len had tried to insist that he could take the pullout, but Barry wouldn't hear of it.

"After everything I put you through, the least I can do is let you have the bed."

After dinner, and pie, and several glasses of wine, Len was beyond exhausted as the previous days compounded on him and he remembered how tired he was. His suitcase hadn't arrived ahead of him, not with the holiday, and seeing as how Cisco was a man of smaller stature, Len ended up borrowing more of Barry's clothes to sleep in.

Lisa smirked at him when she saw him in the hallway on her way to bed, wearing a pair of red sleep pants with lightning bolts on them. Seriously, only a child would wear something so silly, but they suited Barry and ended up fitting Len perfectly.

"Shut up," he told his sister, fighting a smile.

"Guess that answers whether or not you've gotten into his pants yet," she winked.

Len barely had time to groan before she was gone.

Len was out the second his head hit the pillow, but he never slept deeply. The guest room was downstairs, with the living room just outside, and the master bedroom on the second floor. Len awoke sometime in the middle of the night to the sounds of restless tossing and turning. He tried to ignore it, but as he stirred he remembered Barry and everything he'd learned about the kid, and he couldn't just leave him to his nightmares.

He climbed out of bed and padded into the living room. A bit of ambient light shone in from the windows, but only enough to halo Barry's cocooned form inside the blankets, moaning in his sleep.

"Barry…" Len whispered, inching toward the pullout. The kid didn't look as if his cheeks were wet this time, but he writhed and struggled within the covers. " _Barry_."

"Mmm…" Barry whined, looking flushed and sweaty as Len leaned in close to him. "Please…" he arched his neck back, "… _Len_ …"

Len froze. Did he just…?

" _Len_ ," Barry moaned again—definitely not having a nightmare.

Len gave in to the grin that tugged at his lips. He was deeply curious now what might be hiding under those covers, but he had to wake Barry first. He leaned in closer, right beside Barry's ear, and said, "Wake up, Barry…and maybe you can convince me to make that dream a reality."

"Yeah…" Barry mumbled happily in his sleep, then seemed to rouse, tugging at the covers and blinking sleepily at the ceiling. The brightest grin spread across his features while Len remained right where he was, elbows on the mattress, close to Barry's face.

Finally, Barry turned to look at him and smiled wider before his brain caught up with his reaction time. He lurched into a sitting position and pulled the covers tight beneath his chin.

"Len! Oh my god, did I…d-did _you_ …" His eyes bulged, even as his voice remained a feverish whisper. "Did I say any of that out loud?"

"You did." Len pulled back with a simple nod, and sat on the edge of the bed. "Thought you were having a nightmare. Guess I was mistaken. Tell me, Barry…" he held the kid's gaze, "…should I go back to bed?"

Barry stared at him mutely for a moment. "What…else would you do?"

"What are my options?"

If the lights were on, Len imagined the flush to Barry's face would have been the perfect shade of scarlet. "We're in your sister's house," he hissed.

"Not suggesting we go that far," Len smirked. "But…"

"But…?"

"We could see how far we do go." Len started to crawl onto the pullout, gauging Barry's responses closely. "Take things slow. Help each other get back to sleep. See if we can't…" he glanced down as he crowded in close to Barry then flicked his eyes up, "get you a cell phone or maybe convince you to stick around for a while? I got over a week of vacation left, ya know."

A smile twitched at Barry's lips, and he slowly dropped the blankets to pool in his lap. "Yeah? Aren't you sick of me yet?"

"Close. But best to make sure."

On hands and knees, on his sister's sofa bed, with a young man who he was pretty sure had cartoon characters on his boxers, Len bridged the short distance between them and didn't stop until their mouths met. A shock settled through him like static electricity—yet again. No wonder Barry was a lightning rod. Len half expected the bed to cave, or for Cisco to come walking in at that moment on his way to the kitchen, but nothing disturbed the gentle connection of their mouths.

Len pulled his legs in beneath him to better sit and kissed Barry deeper, parting his lips subtly enough that Barry could control the tempo. And oh how the kid responded. A hungry moan, a slip of an eager tongue, the grasp of long fingers into Len's shirt, twisting and pulling him closer. The night was full of promise, even after days of catastrophe.

Maybe road trips weren't so bad, as long as Len reached a worthwhile destination and discovered a few new pleasures along the way.

"You said…no one worries about you anymore," Len whispered, not wanting to darken the mood, but he had to say this. He touched Barry's cheek as he settled under the covers with him. "I would. You're a magnet for disaster after all," he grinned.

Barry chuckled. "Are you calling yourself a disaster?"

"If you think you can handle that," Len said, more seriously than he'd intended, but there it was.

Barry smiled warmly. "I've weathered worse," he said, and though that shadow remained in the depths of his eyes, deeply buried behind his sweet, optimistic expression, it was just a layer. The selfless boy who only wanted to help others was real. The klutz definitely was. And the kid who honestly loved the paranormal and wanted to solve the mysteries of the universe. That was all Barry. And after all, Len was layered too, and this kid, for whatever reason, liked him anyway even though he'd seen him at his worst.

"Now then…" Len said, as he tangled his legs with Barry's beneath the sheets, "what were you dreaming about?"

The next morning, Cisco could not stop blushing, since he'd been the one to find them sharing the sofa bed in the morning. Lisa never once lost her smirk, and Barry tumbled into his usual method of handling nerves by talking at lightning speed.

Len loved every minute of it.

* * *

THE END

Haha, I totally had Weather Wizard save them. :-)

And the cabbie was Hartley.

See ya next ficcie!


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